


Romance 101

by distantattraction



Series: University of Sylvadetta [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, First Dates, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantattraction/pseuds/distantattraction
Summary: Bernadetta asks Sylvain to take her on a date so she can learn how to write a better romance. Sylvain takes it surprisingly seriously.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Bernadetta von Varley
Series: University of Sylvadetta [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639564
Comments: 35
Kudos: 209





	Romance 101

**Author's Note:**

> the sylbernie agenda... the sylvadetta vendetta

"Sylvain, can I ask you something?"

Sylvain beams when he hears the voice. "Anything for you, Bernadetta!" he says, spinning around to face her. She jumps, but he hopes his smile is friendly enough to set her at ease. It took so long just to get her to talk to him without screaming and running off.

Bernadetta shifts her weight and looks down at the floor. "It's kind of a big favor," she says.

"Okay," Sylvain agrees readily. He meant it when he said _anything._

"I'm working on a new story," Bernadetta continues. She's so shy and hesitant. Sylvain nods encouragingly. "And it's a romance."

"Okay," he says again.

"Um... I don't know that much about romance. Because I don't really leave... my room. So, uh."

"You want me to tell you about old relationships?" Sylvain guesses. It's not a bad idea, really. When it comes to number of exes, Sylvain has everyone he knows beat by an order of magnitude. But Bernadetta shakes her head.

"N-no... Um." She's turning very red. "I would like you to take me on a date. Please. If you're not busy."

Sylvain freezes. "You want _me_ to...? I'm really flattered, Bernadetta, but are you sure you picked the right person? I mean, you could have asked Fer--no, I get why you didn't ask Ferdinand. But Claude, maybe, he's good with girls. Or Dimitri. An actual prince! Or, I don't know, Dorothea, she must know how to treat a lady--"

Bernadetta shakes her head even harder. "No, no, it can't be any of those people because none of them found my book. None of them _read_ my book. I don't want to have to explain why I want to go on a date to them!"

"You can just tell them that you want to date them!"

"And have to _break up with them_ after I'm done writing?!" Bernadetta screams. "There's no way I could do that! Why are you trying to ruin my life? Are you that mad I asked you to take me on a--" her voice drops from shout to whisper-- "date?"

Sylvain puts his hands up placatingly. He's pretty sure Bernadetta is one wrong move away from thumping him in the chest with her fists, and he'd rather she stop waving them around. "No, of course not!" he says. "I just thought you should go out with someone whose reputation is less of a rampant garbage fire than mine."

"Whatever!" Bernadetta says, pouting. It's extremely cute. "Never mind! I don't need to go on a stupid date with you! I'll just make it up!"

She tries to punch him, but Sylvain catches her by the wrist. "Bernadetta," he says. "I would be honored to take you on a date this Friday, if you'll still have me."

Bernadetta's pout grows. "If I was going to say no, I wouldn't have asked you in the first place."

Sylvain grins widely. Bernadetta blinks up at him, confused for some reason. "Okay! I'm going to get to planning. You can count on me, Bernadetta. I'm gonna make this perfect for you."

By the time Friday rolls around, Bernadetta is starting to regret everything about her life, from being born all the way up to the dreaded moment Sylvain agreed to go on a date with her. She wonders if she should just feign illness to get out of it. But what if he wants to reschedule? Throwing Sylvain into a fire is looking tempting again.

The knock on her door comes promptly at six o'clock. She expects everything about Sylvain to be flashy, so when knuckles rap gently against the wood, she wonders if Ashe has come to visit. But she opens the door to find Sylvain and his trademark charming smile. He holds out a bouquet of violet pansies tied together at the stems by a purple ribbon.

"Good evening, Bernadetta!" he says. "These are for you."

"For me?" Bernadetta repeats.

"Yeah! I swung by the flower shop earlier, and they reminded me of you!"

"They... reminded you of...?" She drifts off, embarrassment stealing the rest of her sentence.

"Of you, yeah!" Sylvain looks at her questioningly before finally realizing the significance of his actions. "Oh! I didn't, like, go to the store specifically to look for something that reminded me of you. That would be weird for any first date, let alone one you're using as a writing reference. I didn't even go to the flower shop on purpose, I was just passing by when they caught my eye, so I bought them, but. Um." He grimaces. "You can leave them here so you don't have to carry the whole bouquet around when we go into town."

Bernadetta hesitates. "They're really pretty," she says. She means it. As much as she prefers carnivorous plants to regular flowers, this is a lovely bouquet.

"Well, you could-- Um, if you don't mind...?" Sylvain reaches out to her. Bernie goes very still, like a rabbit hearing a hawk. Sylvain plucks a flower from the bunch and places it carefully behind her ear, weaving the stem through her hair to keep it in place. "There! You can leave the rest here. And you look super cute."

Bernadetta almost passes out. She sways, and Sylvain's hands are at her back before she can fall. His brows draw together in concern.

"Whoa! Are you feeling alright?" Sylvain asks. "Should we take a rain check?"

"No, I'm fine," Bernadetta says. She more or less faints all the time. It's a great way to get teachers to let her go back to her room. She walks over to her desk as if nothing happened and lays the pansies down. Then she turns back to Sylvain and says, "Let's go."

"If you're sure," he says, still frowning.

They walk together into town. Sylvain starts out by asking her about her writing, but that makes Bernadetta feel faint again. He asks instead about her other interests. She ends up telling him about the hours she's spent in the monastery greenhouse doing botanical sketches, the embroidery she's done based on her drawings, and the clothes she has sewn for her teddy bear.

They're almost at the town gates when Bernadetta realizes she's been talking the entire time. "Why didn't you stop me!" she says. "You just let me keep going like an idiot! What are you gonna do now, tell everyone what a weird girl I am for dressing up my bear? I'll have you know he's way handsomer than you are!"

Sylvain laughs. "It's okay, Bernadetta! I just wanted to hear what you had to say! You looked happy, so I didn't want to stop you. Isn't it better for you when you don't have to yell at people?"

Bernadetta huffs, folding her arms across her chest. "Fine. I'll believe you this time. But if I hear mean rumors about me later, I'll know it was you! I'll figure out a way to get you back for it."

The look he gives her is indecipherable. It's the same color as pity, but it isn't pity. Bernadetta wonders what it means. "I don't have much of a reputation to tarnish, Bernadetta. But you're welcome to what's left of it, if it'll make you feel better."

She can feel herself deflating under his even gaze. What _is_ that expression? It makes her mad not to know, but Bernadetta can't just ask him. He can't see his own face. Useless boy. She sighs, giving it up as a mystery of the world. "You can call me Bernie," she says.

"What?"

"Isn't Bernadetta kind of a mouthful? And we're on a d-date, so you should call me Bernie." She says it with as much confidence as she can muster, which isn't a lot. But Sylvain's face cracks into such a warm, bright smile that she thinks it was worth it.

"Okay, Bernie," he says. "Let's go have dinner."

They go to a little restaurant with roses in the windows and hearts engraved around the edges of the table. It's one of Sylvain's favorite date spots, so he has plenty of dishes to recommend. "The grilled trout is life-changing," he says with such conviction that Bernadetta feels compelled to order it. Once she tastes the perfectly seasoned fish in its buttery sauce, she can't honestly accuse him of exaggerating.

It's all very pleasant until she catches the staff gossiping about them. "The Gautier boy's gonna eat up another girl, eh?" the server says. "Do you think she's as hungry for it as he is?"

"If he gives it to 'em as good as they all say, I bet she is," another man replies. Bernadetta cannot see so much as sense the lewd hand gesture accompanying his words. She sets her fork down, the bite of food uneaten.

"Sorry about that," Sylvain says. "They don't usually talk that loudly. Or when my date is within earshot. I wouldn't mind if they were only talking about me, but..."

"Does this happen to you a lot?"

"I have a reputation, remember?"

"Why keep coming back, then? It's not like this is the only restaurant in town."

Sylvain shrugs. "It's the same crap I hear everywhere, and the food here is good. Usually. I've got a bad taste in my mouth now, though. How about you, Bernie? Wanna get out of here?"

She nods, so Sylvain throws a handful of coins onto the table and stands. To her surprise, when Bernadetta gets up, Sylvain takes her by the hand.

They don't exactly run, which Bernadetta appreciates. It would be hard for her to keep up with their height difference. But Sylvain leads her confidently around street corners, heading further and further from the town square.

"Sylvain, where are we going?" she asks.

"Somewhere you'll like!" he replies, and Sylvain somehow has the energy to wink at her.

They pass through an archway and turn a corner into such an open expanse of greenery that Bernadetta gasps. The garden is bigger than the monastery greenhouse. There are wildflowers interspersed with the cultivated ones in deliberate arrangements balanced for color. "It's beautiful!" she says, squeezing his hand.

Squeezing his hand? Bernadetta looks down and realizes she's still holding onto him. She lets go with a start. Sylvain gives her a rueful look.

"You know, we can hold hands. It's a date, after all. Dates hold hands sometimes."

"Do _you_ usually hold hands with your dates?" she asks.

"Well. No," he says after a pause. "But people don't go out with me so I can hold their hands. They like me for my other talents." Sylvain sighs heavily, his hand coming up to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry dinner wasn't perfect," he says. "I really wanted it to be."

"It wasn't your fault."

Sylvain quirks his head at her. "Yes, it was."

"Why are you arguing with me? That's not very gentlemanly of you." Sylvain snorts. "Why are you so focused on everything being perfect, anyway? From what I've read, romance isn't supposed to be flawless. This is a better reference than you think it is, Sylvain."

"I wanted it to be perfect because you deserve to have a good night," Sylvain says, shrugging. "I wanted you to have an outing as perfect as you are."

Bernadetta frowns. "I didn't like that line. I think you're trying too hard."

Sylvain laughs then, his whole body shaking with it. It's not an attractive sound, really; he keeps snorting and wheezing. Still, it's oddly charming. She's never seen him laugh this way before. It doesn't fit with Sylvain's rakish philanderer act. It seems more genuine than that. She watches as he regains his composure, clearing his throat when he notices her staring.

"What?"

"You keep talking about how you've earned your terrible reputation," Bernadetta says, "but you've been perfectly nice to me. What's your deal?"

"I told you, I want this date to be perfect for you."

"Because you care about my writing?"

"Because I care about you."

"Is that what you tell all the girls?" Bernadetta asks dryly.

"No." And there is something about the way he says it--the aversion of his eyes, the half-shrug of his shoulders as if he doesn't expect her to believe him--that makes Bernadetta think it is the truth. When he looks at her again, his womanizer's smile is back in place. "Anyway! Here we are in this lovely garden, and you're looking at me instead of the flowers? I'm honored, Miss Bernadetta. I had no idea you found me so captivating."

Bernadetta can feel her face go blank. "I will look around at the plants now, thank you."

She turns and walks towards the nearest rosebush, leaving Sylvain to jog after her. "Sorry, Bernie, but you can't get rid of me that easily. I'll walk with you!"

"You don't have to."

"No, I don't," Sylvain agrees. "But I want to. Will you teach me about the plants?"

It's tempting to say no, but it's even more tempting to talk about all the flowers she learned to recognize from encyclopedias. "These don't grow in Adrestia," she says of more than one set of blossoms. "I'm glad I got to see them with my own eyes instead of just looking at illustrations in books." Sylvain listens more intently than she thought he would. He's been different than she thought he'd be the entire night. It's a pleasant surprise.

When they reach the far side of the garden, Sylvain plops down onto a bench. After a moment's hesitation, Bernadetta sits beside him.

"Are you having fun?" he asks.

It feels like a high-pressure question. Will he be mad if she says no? Should she lie? Wait, does she even have to lie? "Well," Bernadetta says. She speaks slowly to give herself time to consider her feelings. "I'm kind of stressed out and nervous." Sylvain looks crestfallen. Bernadetta rushes to finish her thought. "But I don't think it's any worse than when I have to go to class or dinner or anything outside of my room."

"I was hoping to show you such a good time that you'd forget about all that." Sylvain pouts. Bernadetta tamps down the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks like a child's.

"This garden is gorgeous," she says instead. "How did you find it?"

"A man like me knows the best places to sneak around," Sylvain says loftily. "Just kidding. Mostly. I got lost one day while I was coming back from someone's house, took a few wrong turns, and ended up here. I thought it was really pretty. And peaceful."

"So you started bringing girls here?"

"What? No. The girls I go out with are not looking for peaceful. If they were, they wouldn't pick me. But I know you like the quiet."

Bernadetta nods slowly. "I do."

"Soooo, I hope that taking you to this lovely garden brings me a step closer to earning your forgiveness for the dinner thing."

"I already told you, you didn't do anything wrong."

Sylvain looks at her for so long that the attention makes her blush. "You're too kind, Bernadetta. Way too kind." There's something in the way he says it, his tone lacking the levity he's famous for. There's a mystery here, but Bernadetta doesn't know him well enough to solve it.

"You're supposed to call me Bernie," she says. She at least knows what she's told him.

He laughs. "Yes, I am. Sorry, Bernie."

They fall into silence, Sylvain gazing blankly out at the garden while Bernadetta looks sidelong at him, trying to figure out the shape of his puzzle. Long before she can understand even a single piece, he speaks.

"Bernie... Can I kiss you?" He isn't looking at her. His hands are in his lap, clenched into nervous fists. So are Bernadetta's.

She gulps. She knew it was coming to this, wanted it to come to this. Bernadetta has never been kissed before, doesn't know how to write about it without lifting phrases from other books, wants to be better than that, but. She's nervous.

"Yes," she says, pushing down the impulse to scream and run back to the safety of her room. Sylvain smiles at her. He looks grateful. That's something she would think more about if he wasn't leaning in, wasn't pressing his mouth against hers.

His lips are soft. That's all she has time to think before Sylvain pulls away. "Is that all?" she asks, feeling surprisingly breathless for such a chaste kiss.

"Am I allowed to do more?"

"Sylvain, you're supposed to teach me. My mother has kissed me on the lips. That's nothing new."

"I hope it was a little bit different," Sylvain says with a chuckle. But he reaches out a careful hand to lift her chin. Bernadetta watches him lean in before her eyes flutter closed, and then his soft lips are on hers again, and _oh._ So this is what it feels like to have a warm tongue slide into her mouth and caress her own. Sylvain takes his hand from her chin and places it against the side of her face, tangling his fingers in her hair. Bernadetta's hands end up fisted in his uniform shirt somehow. She doesn't know when she grabbed him.

Her heart races, and for the first time, it's nice. It's exhilarating. It doesn't feel like she's going to die. It feels like she just might have fun for once.

Sylvain pulls away, and she finds herself wishing he hadn't. "Did you like it?" he asks.

Bernadetta nods, half-dazed. "It was nice."

"Okay!" Relief washes over his face. That's weird. Hasn't Sylvain kissed a lot of people? What difference does one more make? She forgets her questions when he asks, "Do you want to do it again?"

"Yes."

The word barely leaves her lips before Sylvain's mouth is on hers again. His tongue slides against hers, soft and smooth and hot. It's dizzying. Bernadetta wants to tug her collar away from her throat to get more air. She wants to pull her hood up to hide her face. She'd have to stop kissing Sylvain to do either, and that's one thing she doesn't want.

When Sylvain pulls away this time, Bernadetta chases him. His eyes go wide when she tugs at his jacket to pull him back into place. Bernadetta slips her own tongue between his lips. His eyebrows shoot up into his hair. She wasn't supposed to do this.

Bernadetta releases him with a gasp. "I'm sorry!" she squeaks. "That was really rude, I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize!" Sylvain says, chuckling. "Trust me, I was into it."

That can't be true, can it? He's just being nice. His patience with her will soon run dry. Bernadetta's mind spins until Sylvain leans in and brushes his lips against her temple in the lightest kiss imaginable. It blows away her stormcloud thoughts, leaving her mind clear and her cheeks flushed.

Sylvain clears his throat and looks away before speaking again. "So, um. Usually after dinner, my date and I go back to my room. If you want, we could do that? I could, you know, teach you some other stuff." He rubs the back of his neck again.

He sounds hesitant. He sounds unpracticed. That can't be right. Bernadetta knows his reputation as well as anyone. She knows that he asks girls to come to bed with him all the time, knows that they say yes. She knows that he could show her things she only dares to imagine late at night when her mind spirals with ideas. She knows that he would be gentle with her, that his hands would be warm against her skin. Maybe she would like it.

But she isn't ready.

"I don't think we should do that," Bernadetta says slowly.

For a second, just one, Sylvain's face falls. Then he plasters that familiar smile back on and nods. "Okay. I understand."

He sounds really sad for some reason. Bernadetta isn't sure he even realizes it. "I really appreciate that you would do that for me though, Sylvain. For my writing," she clarifies.

"Haha. Yeah. For your writing." He looks at his feet. It's very strange for someone Bernadetta's height to be seeing his head from this angle. She doesn't like it.

"Sylvain?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"Can we hold hands again?"

He looks at her then, flashes her a smile that crinkles his eyes in a way the other one didn't. "Sure. Anything for you, Bernie." He takes her hand, lacing his fingers between hers and squeezing. His hands are _huge._ They're rough against hers, too, covered in calluses from years of combat training that young wives-to-be like her weren't supposed to get. She squeezes back, studying the way their hands look together.

"This is nice," she says, rubbing the tip of her thumb against the base of his.

"Yeah," Sylvain agrees. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

"What're you thanking me for?" Bernadetta asks. "This was something I asked _you_ to do, remember?"

"Sure, but I kind of thought you'd reconsider. I'm preeeetty sure I heard you talking about killing me once or twice."

Bernadetta flushes. He heard that?! Why is he just smiling at her like an idiot, then! "I don't know what you're talking about!" she says shrilly.

"I'm not mad about it or anything. I respect your commitment. Most girls just slap me, but you think big."

Bernadetta looks at him, her nose crinkling. "Don't take this the wrong way, Sylvain, but the way you talk about yourself is weird."

Sylvain lifts their intertwined hands to his face and presses his lips to the back of her hand. The gesture is so romantic it makes her heart skip a beat and so cheesy it makes her eye twitch. Then he says, "Takes one to know one, Bernie," and winks at her.

Sylvain sucks, Bernadetta decides.

"Let's go back to the monastery," she says, getting to her feet. She doesn't let go of his hand. The movement yanks his arm upward.

"Like this?"

"Let's go!" Bernadetta says instead of answering. She starts walking away, trusting that Sylvain will get up and follow so she won't have to drag him. He only stumbles once before his stupid long legs catch up to her short ones, and then he falls into step beside her. Their linked hands swing slightly as they walk.

Bernadetta keeps holding onto him right up until they reach the door of her room. Sylvain's fingers trail against hers as she reluctantly pulls her hand away. It's strange to be standing in front of her door and not want to go inside just yet. Bernadetta thinks it's the first time she's ever felt this way.

"This was nice, Sylvain," she says. "No matter how many times you tell me that it wasn't perfect like you wanted, this was nice. And helpful. So thank you, really, for taking me on this... this date." Bernadetta turns the handle of her door, but she pauses half a step inside. She looks around conspiratorially before beckoning Sylvain to come closer. He leans down obediently, ready to listen to whatever secret she has to tell him.

But Bernadetta doesn't have a secret; she just has an idea. When Sylvain is close enough, she goes up onto her toes so she can give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Then, before Sylvain can do anything or her head can explode from the embarrassment, she says "Good night," and slips into her room, shutting the door behind her.

She needn't have rushed. Sylvain stands frozen in the corridor for a full five minutes, his face burning, covering his mouth. He lowers his hand when he finally starts climbing the stairs to get to his room, but he keeps the beaming smile it was hiding.

**Author's Note:**

> i love....... Them
> 
> visit me on twitter [@bottomsylvain](https://twitter.com/bottomsylvain) where I talk about sylvadetta every day or retweet this fic [here](https://twitter.com/bottomsylvain/status/1226335731708116992)


End file.
